


To You I Swear

by flitterflutterfly



Category: Die Hard (Movies), The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, M/M, Sentinel/Guide Bonding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 18:00:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flitterflutterfly/pseuds/flitterflutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Sentinel High Council called John McClane up to find the missing Guide Matthew Farrell, John hadn’t hesitated. As any Sentinel knew, protecting Guides was the primary directive. Until the rogue Sentinel by the name of Thomas Gabriel was caught, or killed, John would do anything to keep safe the young hacker with whom a bond had sprung within minutes of meeting.</p><p>
  <b>This story is now on permanent hiatus. I may decide to rewrite and repost it at some point--it which case I'll be putting it up on my new and improved ao3 account: http://archiveofourown.org/users/skylarjaye/. Thank you to everyone who supported this story and my old account.</b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	To You I Swear

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the first chapter a long time ago. I don't know why I haven't put this story up until now. It got lost, I guess.
> 
> The first chapter was betaed by the lovelies diva0789 and slvrbld747and natasha_alexis.
> 
> The art was made by me.
> 
> I have no idea when/if I'm ever going to finish this story. It's not a super cliffhanger, I don't think, but while the other four chapters are mostly plotted... I just got stalled. I might end up just calling this a oneshot, but for now I'll leave it in perpetual WIP state.

The light was green in front of him. John flipped on his left turn signal, fingers tapping impatiently on the steering wheel as he watched the line of cars blocking his turn. He growled low in frustration, tired of the long day as one of the few Sentinels in the New York PD, pulled left and right between the departments because of his genetic _gift_. 

The light was still green. John glared at it, the edges of his vision blurring as he focused his enhanced sight on the neon brightness.

Green is a soothing color, he thought abstractly, like fresh grass, swaying softly. Not the best cover to crouch low in, but joyful to play in. Roll in, smelling sweetly like...

_HONK!_

John pulled back out, noticing the green had turned into an arrow. He turned almost blindly, pulling over into the first parking lot on the right and breathing deeply through his nose.

“Fucking zone-out,” John said, his own voice amplified in his ears. He leaned his head down against the steering wheel, trying to settle his own beating heart. He was too old for this shit, far too old to be a Sentinel without a Guide.

An abomination. He knew what most of the Council thought, wondering why he wasn’t dormant yet.

 _Holly_ , John thought faintly. He reached for his phone, dialing the first three digits of her number.

“No,” he said, stopping himself. “You don’t need this, dammit John. You don’t need to go crying to your ex-Guide every time you zone.”

Holly wouldn’t mind, he knew. She felt just as badly as he did that their bond didn’t stick.

Fraying around the edges, John’s lips quirked. Sentinels weren’t supposed to go this long without an anchor. He looked up, the rearview mirror catching sight of a small black bag in the backseat. Soon, he thought, just a couple more cases, wrap these up, and then he’d go.

What else was there for an old Sentinel but the wilds of their spiritual home?

The phone still in John’s hand rang suddenly, vibrating across his skin. John looked down, blinking to push back to the temptation of the bright screen. He recognized the number.

“Alpha,” John greeted calmly as he picked up the call. He knew better than to let any of his earlier melancholy show in his voice.

“McClane,” the smooth growl of High Alpha Jim Ellison said. “The Council has a request for you.” 

“A request?” John frowned. “Since when does the Council _request_ something?”

There was a low chuckle in the background, probably Ellison’s Guide. “He’s got a point, Jim.”

The sound of a Guide’s voice, an Alpha Guide at that, was enough to sooth John. Blair Sandburg might not be his, but John was at the point where any Guide was better than none.

Not that he would accept the damn temps the Council kept trying to throw at him. He was unbonded, not invalid. 

“What’s the request?” John asked, curious now that his mood had improved. 

“A Guide,” Jim said, “has gone missing.”

John straightened in his seat, senses automatically expanding outwards as if the Guide would be anywhere near him. “Missing?”

There was a rustle and then Blair’s voice came on clearer. “Calm yourself, Sentinel, listen fully before acting.” There was a pause. “His apartment was found burned. A bomb had gone off sometime last night.”

A roar sounded deep in John’s ears and he tightened his grip on the phone. Missing, he reminded himself, not dead. “No body?”

“No,” Blair said. “Not of him, at least. Three others, known hitmen, were found in pieces.”

“Hitmen?” John narrowed his eyes. “Why would they be after, why would anyone…?”

Guides were revered by society, sometimes even more than Sentinels. To kill a Guide was to have emotional backlash put you forever in an insane asylum. The Sentinel in him paced restlessly.

“We don’t know,” Jim said, cutting back in. “That’s what the Council needs you to find out. The apartment is not far from you. We’ve had several pairs go over it already, but…” 

“I’m unbonded,” John said, understanding immediately. “So is the Guide?”

“Exactly,” Jim said. “His scent will call to you in a way it didn’t to the bonded Sentinels.”

“We know this will be hard,” Blair began.

“No, Alpha,” John cut him off. “I’ll do it.” 

Jim’s audible sigh of relief reverberated through the car. “Quick hunting, Sentinel.”

“And John,” Blair said. “His name is Matthew Farrell.”

(0)-(0)-(0)

“Sir,” the agent said. “What are we going to do?”

Bowman pulled back a growl. “I want a list of all hackers, white hats, and felons, _anyone_ who could have done this.” 

It was no mean feat, shutting down the FBI’s computer main frame, and not something to be brushed over. All of Bowman’s territorial possessiveness was prickling at the knowledge that someone had messed in his purview.

“I want more than just a list,” Bowman said, his dark eyes sweeping over the chaos of the room. “I want you to bring them in here. Get the local PDs to help.”

“All of them?” the agent asked. “Even… sir there are also Sentinels and Guides on that list.”

“All of them,” Bowman barked, not even sparing a moment to be sorry as the agent paled and quickly left.

(0)-(0)-(0)

The authorities had already cleaned up most of the mess of the Guide’s apartment. Still, John’s sensitive nose easily picked up the smell of rust, smoke, and burned flesh. As he looked around he felt the echoes of screams in the air, as well as a call, a pull. 

“Guide,” John growled low.

He turned sharply, ready to stalk out. A low sound caught his attention. There in the corner by the window, his spirit animal stood strong, eyes deeply gold and mane bristling. 

His inner Sentinel met his gaze and opened its mouth, long sabers gleaming as it roared loudly.

They will find the Guide and kill whomever was threatening him, John thought. It was his duty as a Sentinel, the oath he’d been taught repeating on loop in his head.

“Guides are our salvation,” John murmured. “They are to be cherished, protected.” 

His plans of the long savannahs of Africa were pushed back. He may be old, but his duty to his oath came before a dignified exile.

He would find Matthew Farrell or he would die trying. 

The pull directed him, soft like a wisp of smoke, and John walked closer to the window where his spirit animal was gazing out. John frowned, his keen eyes picking up the barest hint of thread in a crack in the window frame. 

John picked up the thread, twisting it in his fingers, and then glanced up at where the explosion had blasted the window completely in. Yes, even though the glass was missing, the frame indicated the window had been open.

He’d escaped this way, then. 

John climbed out the window, his feet stepping lightly on the metal of the fire escape. He took a deep sniff and quickly regretted it as the overwhelming scent of rust and explosive powder consumed his mind.

For a precarious moment, John hesitated on the edge of a zone, but then the trace feeling of the unbonded Guide pulled at him and he was coming back to reality. Blinking hard, John dialed down his scent sense and followed that tug.

It was strange. Even though he’d been around unbonded Guides before, and some in much closer situations then just tracking one, he’d never felt much of a pull towards them. He hadn’t even _seen_ Matthew Farrell, and yet the Guide was calling out to him. 

John’s mouth twisted and he quickly jumped down the last several flights of metal stairs, landing atop a dumpster lid and skidding down to the alleyway. The pull continued to tug him up the street and John’s pace quickened.

(0)-(0)-(0) 

Thomas Gabriel paced, his thoughts a swirl of numbers and calculations and recalculations. 

“Thomas,” Mai, his lovely Guide, said. He focused on her, then flicked his eyes over to the other Guide of his flock, Trey.

“Are we prepared?” he asked them.

“Other than the fact that Farrell is still missing,” Trey said. “The first step is good to go.” 

Thomas chewed at the inside of his cheek, a nasty habit he should have gotten rid of years ago, but it was too useful in helping him concentrate. He surveyed the monitors full of maps and video of the streets of the United States of America.

“I’ve got Russo and his men on it,” Thomas stated. After a moment, he nodded. “Do it.”

Trey let out a tense breath and quickly typed in the activation code. Mai ran a hand along Thomas’ arm, though it was hardly a comfort to him. Still, he wouldn’t begrudge his flock their little habits, not while they had to work seamlessly together to pull this heist off.

But Thomas had faith. After all, they all knew the punishment should they fail. 

(0)-(0)-(0)

Matt’s breath was coming fast, too fast, as he crouched behind a truck. The parking lot was nearly deserted, dusk falling over the sky like a warning. He’d been running since dawn, but they’d chased him like bloodhounds and Matt was so damn tired of it. 

The sound of the helicopter came and Matt tried to hold his breath. He risked a glance up and saw the chopper hovering for a moment, before veering off east. Matt breathed out deeply.

That’s when the gunfire started again. The truck’s windows all shattered outwards, showering Matt with glass. He closed his eyes, arms curling up to protect his face. His legs were shaking and he could feel the determination and anger of his attackers as they moved closer.

Matt glanced up and saw another vehicle a few rows away. He took a deep breath, pooling his reserves to gather enough energy to push onto his attackers. In an instant, he’d sent them a blast of the pure _terror_ he was feeling. 

The gunfire stopped and Matt bolted, scrambling across the lot towards the red jeep. He felt the attackers waver, before one of them began firing again just as Matt dived down behind the jeep.

Bullets ricocheted off the pavement, flying everywhere. Matt bit back a curse as one burned into the side of his shirt, barely missing skin. 

The sound of gunfire seemed to increase suddenly. There was a yell, and then came a flux of emotional backlash that had Matt’s head spinning. The darkness sang to him, calling out peace and serenity, escape from the pain.

Matt wrenched himself back from the dying man, gasping. He felt tears brimming under his eyelids and he clasped his shaking hands together.

Numb and lost in himself, Matt was completely surprised when he felt the close presence of another predator. He looked up, but the man who’d come around the side of the jeep wasn’t pointing a gun at him. 

He spared a moment of relief, before the tethering tug on his soul registered and he was inhaling deeply. “Sentinel,” he murmured.

The Sentinel nodded slightly and held out his free hand. Matt grasped it, letting himself be pulled up off the pavement. The Sentinel turned his head, his mouth brushing Matt’s ear.

“On the count of three, I need you to run towards the stores, okay?”

His voice was deep, rough in an animalistic way, and Matt nodded without thought. 

Moving his head dislodged the Sentinel’s mouth from his ear and the barest hint of a tongue flicked out, tasting his earlobe, before the Sentinel was pulling back, grimacing. 

Matt flushed. “Sorry,” he muttered, moving a hand to feel where he had some blood running down from the side of his head and over his neck. That must not have tasted very good.

The Sentinel looked at him strangely for a moment, and then, without warning, his bare hand reached up and caressed the back of Matt’s neck.

Matt’s vision dimmed and then came back, the world suddenly brighter and more intense and _full_ in a way it never had been before.

The Sentinel moaned, obviously feeling the affects of the bond already. Bond, fuck, they’d bonded. Stage one, probably, which was easily breakable still, and shallow, but there, and enough that the Sentinel growled fiercely as the gunfire began again, pelting the side of the jeep.

“Come on,” the Sentinel said in a low voice. He tugged and Matt followed, running as fast as he could towards the Wal-Mart supercenter.

The attacker’s fire followed them and Matt exhaled hard, lashing mentally at the remaining man. It was weak—he was exhausted and newly bonded at that—but it was still enough to give them the moment’s advantage they needed to escape. They fled around the back of the store and toward the next street.

They ran across the road, past a green stoplight and then farther onto a plateau of sorts where the road cut down sharply towards the main city section.

“What the fuck?” _his_ Sentinel asked. Matt looked over and saw the massive car pile-up, and then at the next intersection another crash. He was sure his Sentinel could see even more wreckage farther into the city, because the man’s eyes were tracing distant streets, and there was shock flickering through their small bond.

Matt flinched, suddenly, as he realized his Sentinel had gone unnaturally still. He put a hand on his bare arm and his lips to his neck. “Come back. We need to keep moving, Sentinel." 

The Sentinel shuddered and looked around wildly before his eyes fell on Matt and he grimaced. “Sorry.”

Matt shook his head, but couldn’t say anything else as the Sentinel once again began to run.

They ran until Matt was completely out of breath, and then his Sentinel herded them both off the road and to what looked like a collection of storage units. Matt had to stop, and his Sentinel let him, barely panting himself. 

Matt took the moment to look over the man he’d suddenly been superficially tied to. His Sentinel was tall, rather buff, and much older than him if that bald head was anything to go by.

But Matt had always been fond of older men.

His Sentinel seemed to notice him looking and he sent Matt a little smirk, his eyes roaming over Matt’s body, both assessing and admiring. 

Matt could barely believe any of this was happening.

“Uh, hi?” Matt let out a breathless laugh, his heart still beating wildly. “I’m Matt, Matt Farrell. Your Guide.” 

He hadn’t expected this, Matt reflected. This Sentinel had bonded to him and yet, unlike all the other Sentinels he’d ever considered or imagined bonding to, it didn’t seem like a weight, like a way to constrict his freedom.

Maybe he’d change his mind. His adrenalin was all over the place and this Sentinel had just saved his life, but the bond wasn’t an anchor between them so much as a thread connecting them, a comforting way to find each other and hold on to each other in the darkness.

Matt hadn’t ever realized how lonely he always had been until suddenly he realized he wasn’t anymore.

“I know,” his Sentinel said, lips quirking. It took Matt a moment to realize he was referring to Matt’s name, not to his realization. “I’m John McClane.”

Matt sucked on his bottom lip, recognizing the name vaguely. Then again, New York might be a big city but most Sentinels and Guides circled in the same crowds. 

“John,” Matt said, to test it out. “Sentinel.”

“Guide,” John rumbled in return and Matt laughed again, relieved and exhausted all at once.

(0)-(0)-(0) 

“Alpha,” Miguel Bowman, one of the men Jim considered a part of his pack and the Deputy Director of the FBI, greeted.

“Miguel,” Jim said. “Do you have news for the Council?”

“I wish I had more, Alpha,” Bowman said, his voice hard. “So far as we can suffice, the nation is under attack.”

Jim could feel that already, his body tense and uneasy and his spirit animal restless. Still… “What kind of attack?”

“Viral,” Bowman stated. “Computer hacking. They, whoever is behind this, is systematically killing anyone with the abilities to stop this, Alpha.”

“What?” Jim sat up straighter in his office chair. He could feel the bond with his Guide stir and then Blair’s mental prodding. Jim took a deep breath and sent back a pull to his Guide, asking him to come. “Why haven’t I heard of this before?”

“I’ve only just found out,” Bowman said. 

The door to Jim’s office opened and Blair walked in. He took one look at Jim’s face and closed the door tightly. Within moments, he was astride Jim’s lap, offering grounding and comfort as they both listened to Bowman.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Blair murmured.

Bowman took a ragged breath over the phone line. “It’s upsetting, Alphas,” he said. “They are not just targeting mundane hackers. There have been two confirmed Sentinel deaths already, and one Guide.” 

“Their names?” Jim asked tightly.

“Ken Terry and Morris Frutinger,” Bowman said. “The Guide was Frutinger’s bonded, she also perished in the explosion that decimated their home.”

Blair rested his forehead in the junction of Jim’s neck and shoulder. Jim shifted, getting more comfortable under his Guide’s weight. They both needed the contact now and Jim could only hope that Bowman’s Guide was nearby to help him though this madness. 

“The explosion at Matthew Farrell’s apartment,” Blair stated suddenly. “That’s related?”

“Yes, we’re almost certain,” Bowman said. “I have agents on the look out for him-”

“John McClane is searching,” Jim told the Sentinel. Bowman would recognize John’s name, he was as much a legend in the Sentinel-Guide community as any single one of them could be.

“Good.” Bowman breathed out quickly. “If he finds him, Alpha, he’ll need to bring him to me. The FBI is going to need all the help we can get on this.” 

“What is it?” Blair asked. “You know.”

“I can guess,” Bowman stated dryly. “A Fire Sale.”

Blair gasped, though Jim was confused. His Guide stroked his hand and Jim knew it would be explained to him later. “We’ll inform McClane,” Jim said. “Quick hunting, Sentinel.”

Bowman hung up easily, but still Blair remained in Jim’s lap. “We need to inform the Council,” he stated. “This is a serious national threat, Jim.”

“How bad?” Jim asked.

“If whoever this is succeeds in pulling off a Fire Sale…” Blair’s hands tightened in Jim’s shirt. “Really bad, Jim. Really fucking bad.” 

(0)-(0)-(0) 

Matthew, no Matt, was his Guide. John had found his Guide, at long last. It felt right, this bond shimmering between them, fragile though it still was. John pulled at Matt, one hand cupping the back of his neck and he breathed in deeply.

His senses had imprinted on his Guide all at once as the stage one bonding had clicked into place. He would now recognize Matt’s face at the distance of miles, his scent in a room of odors; his taste covered by the spiciest foods, the sound of his voice through the sounds of explosions… his touch in the most dangerous of circumstances. 

Matt was his now; his to protect, his to cherish.

John’s ears picked up the sound of footsteps racing towards them and he pulled Matt behind him, hand tightening on his gun. Matt’s heartbeat sped up and he pushed himself closer to John’s back. 

“This is the FBI!” Around the corner, three men dressed in bulletproof suits raised guns towards John. He cursed his distraction that he hadn’t noticed them earlier. “Lower your gun.”

“No,” John said contritely. “I suggest you back away, now.”

His nerves were strung tight, vibrating along every connection to his Guide. His mind was warring between the belief that the FBI were safe, or safe enough, and the Sentinel’s drive to protect his Guide.

“Step away from Farrell,” the agent ordered. “We won’t ask again.” 

Matt gasped into John’s back and John growled. He never had good relations with the feds anyway, and now they were attempting to separate him from his Guide. John lifted his gun higher, a warning.

“What is going on there?” a voice asked over one of the agent’s radio, breaking the sudden tension. “I did not give you leave to engage in contact with anyone.”

“You said to bring in all the hackers, sir,” the middle agent stated. He was speaking softly, as if John couldn’t hear every fucking thing they said. “This unknown man is obstructing our way to Farrell.”

John growled again, but Matt’s hands were on him and he settled down slightly. “Look,” he said loudly. “Whoever it is you’re talking to, let them know-”

“I can hear you, Sentinel McClane,” the voice stated. “I’m Deputy Director Miguel Bowman, of the FBI. Alpha Ellison told me he sent you to pick up Guide Farrell.”

John settled, just slightly, at the sound of another Sentinel’s voice. “Then know that Matt and I are safe, for the time being.” He didn’t lower his gun, but his finger relaxed on the trigger. 

“I don’t doubt your abilities, McClane,” Bowman said. “There is a situation brewing, one that we need Guide Farrell to help us with. I’m going to have to ask that you both, or at least he, come with my agents to DC.” 

“No,” John growled. He felt himself tense again, all earlier relief washed away. This other Sentinel, this unknown Sentinel wanted his Guide, for what purpose he didn’t know, and he wouldn’t stand for that. 

“Sentinel Bowman,” Matt said suddenly and John’s face whipped around to look at his Guide. _His_ Guide, talking to the other Sentinel in that calming voice.

Matt glanced quickly at him, frowning. He was still touching John and that was the only reason John hadn’t gone feral on the entire block yet.

“Guide Farrell,” Bowman said. The agent with the radio moved slightly closer so that Matt could also hear the deputy director talk. “Do you know what’s going on?” 

“A Fire Sale,” Matt breathed. “I figured, when I saw the streetlights, but it’s insane-”

“Yes,” Bowman’s voice crackled briefly. “There’s a threat toward you. The instigators of this madness have been targeting high-level hackers."

“I think I figured that out too,” Matt remarked dryly. “You need my help?”

“We need to figure out how to stop this,” Bowman said, “and you are one of the few left with the skills to do it.”

John couldn’t stand it anymore, the way the deputy director was trying to pull his Guide away. He growled, shifting so that one arm was wrapped tightly around Matt’s waist. Matt turned immediately to him. 

“John,” he said. “It’s okay. This is… this is big. I need to help.” He took a shuddering breath and John could feel how upset he was. “I _need_ to help.” 

Bowman’s surprised breath jolted both of them. “You’ve bonded.”

John’s arm tightened, but it was Matt that said, “Yes.” 

Silence descended over all of them. John could tell that the agents who recognized now how much threat they were under were suddenly nervous, their fear scents spiking.

“Pull back,” Bowman said suddenly.

“What?” the agent with the radio asked.

“I said pull back,” Bowman stated. “Sentinel McClane, there is a SGC refuge house a few miles from you, I’m sure you’ll be able to scent it out. Take as long as you need to settle your bond, but as soon as you’re ready we need you. Both of you.”

“We’ll be there, as quick as we can,” Matt said, though his voice still wavered.

John continued to watch silently as the agents all backed up and then left without a backwards glance.

(0)-(0)-(0) 

Matt rested his head on John’s shoulder, still tightly enclosed in his Sentinel’s grip. One hand stroked up and down John’s arm, calming him even as he knew his Sentinel was listening to the FBI agents driving away.

Finally, his Sentinel seemed to lose some of his tension. He holstered his gun, making Matt relax even more. “If you’re not FBI?” he half-asked against John’s chest.

“New York PD,” John said. He sighed. “What’s going on? Who is chasing you?”

“I don’t know!” Matt exclaimed, pulling back slightly. “I was just doing a quick security job, um hacking… I’m a hacker-”

“I got that,” John said dryly and Matt winced. How the hell had he bonded with a cop?

Still… John just radiated Sentinel and fuck that was too beautiful. Matt’s whole body ached, but here with John outside a row of storage units in the cesspool of New York City, he felt safe.

“Sometimes companies hire me,” Matt explained, “to try to hack into their systems. Banks and corporations, things like that, so I can tell them their weak spots.”

“Okay,” John shifted. “So you were on a job.” 

“I’d just finished and I was about to close out of the window when I had to use the restroom,” Matt flushed slightly. “Too many Red Bulls, I guess. Anyway, I came back in the room and suddenly I was… I was being shot at.” 

John seemed to rumble at that and he stroked one of his large hands in Matt’s hair. Matt breathed in deeply, trying to calm them both. He couldn’t completely, a stage one bond wasn’t the easiest to use, especially for him, the Guide. John would be able to find him anywhere, now, but in contrast he would be far more territorial and Matt still didn’t quite have the ability to calm him down from that reaction.

Not unless they bonded further.

He doubted John would want to, after he heard the whole story. “I escaped out the window and ran, and you know what happened next.”

“There’s more,” John said and Matt cursed his Sentinel’s fixation on him.

“Maybe,” he said. “The job I was doing… it might not have been strictly legal.” 

John frowned, but he wasn’t pulling away from Matt. Matt took a chance and buried his face in John’s shoulder, worried. A fucking cop!

“Hey, Matt- Mattie,” John murmured. “It’s okay, whatever it is. Just tell me.”

“I’m not… I’m not a criminal, I mean hackers like me we’re always walking a thin line. The thing is, sometimes I’ll take jobs that aren’t really approved, but never for bad reasons. It’s always to test security and sometimes it’s easier to do that when not everyone knows about it and-”

“Matt,” John interrupted. “You don’t have to be so nervous.” 

“Well, I do,” Matt muttered. “The Fire Sale… it’s a three-step attack on the country. And I think I helped them do it.” 

John stiffened under him and Matt’s grip tightened before he could help it. “Go on,” John said.

“I was asked to create this algorithm, and it was one of those jobs, you know, where I had to break into somewhere without everyone knowing about it, but… their story was sketchy at best. I didn’t really worry about it, I mean the person I was working with was a Guide, John. She was another Guide and she tricked me, and then she ordered my death!” Matt shook and John’s arms clasped warmly around him.

“Matt…” John murmured.

“I don’t want to go to jail,” Matt confessed. “I didn’t know… I didn’t know that they were attempting a Fire Sale, but fuck, man, this is bad. This is so bad, and I helped.”

“You were manipulated,” John said. “There’s a difference.”

Matt could tell that his Sentinel was still tense about the whole situation, but then again, of course he was. Then John tensed even further and Matt looked up.

“Your attackers from earlier,” he said. “I can smell them, they’re on their way.”

“Fuck, fuck,” Matt muttered. “Okay, there’s a safe house nearby, right? Focus your nose on it. Do you remember that smell, the mix of orange peel and sage?”

“Yeah,” John said. He tugged at Matt and then they were running towards that unique scent that all Sentinels were trained to recognize.

(0)-(0)-(0)

The tangy smell of orange sage led John, with Matt following in his footsteps, to a shack of a house. John paused outside the torn up yard and stretched his senses outward, trying to tell if they were being followed, or if they’d lost the terrorists chasing them. 

“Let me,” Matt said, catching on to what he was doing.

John did, allowing Matt to steady him through their bond. He sifted through the sound of horns honking, of car crashes and ambulance sirens and fire trucks and every other goddamn mess this so called ‘Fire Sale’ had brought into his city.

Into the country, apparently. 

A part of John worried, briefly, about what kind of people would be able to get a Guide to work with them. About the possibility of Sentinels as well, but he brushed that aside and focused on his own Guide. 

“I think we’re in the clear,” John said after a moment, pulling back. Matt’s breath of relief was still sharply audible to his ears.

John let himself clasp a hand to Matt’s arm as he gently led him towards the shack and then around to the back where an outside basement entrance was pass coded shut. For his part, Matt simply pressed into John’s hand.

There was something in his scent, something still frightened and it had John confused, his Sentinel senses still on the lookout for danger.

“Oh,” Matt murmured. He reached forward to the coded box and pressed a couple quick numbers, the date of the first recorded Sentinel-Guide bonding in History. The box beeped and then the basement door opened, revealing a staircase down. 

John went first, waiting until Matt had closed the door behind them. The light had turned on automatically, a softer glow than florescent lights and a relief on John’s sight. He sniffed cautiously and found the room delightfully sterile, cleaned from whatever last Sentinel and Guide had been in it. 

He’d have to notify the community that they’d stayed here after they left so that someone could come and clean, but that could be dealt with later.

Matt walked past John, into the living room and then through it to the far bedroom, bathroom combo. “Oh good, there’s some spare clothes,” he said.

John heard him ruffle through the closet and came to look. Indeed, there were shirts of all sizes, all a muted grey, white, or black combination. Some pants too, a couple pairs of jeans and sweats.

Matt held up a grey shirt, nodding. “This should fit you, I think.”

“Thanks,” John murmured. “I’m thinking a shower for both of us is a good idea.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Matt said. He picked out a set of jeans and a black shirt for himself. “Do you mind if I…”

“Go ahead,” John said. “I’ll see if there’s any food stocked.”

Matt busied himself in the shower and John valiantly tried not to listen to him wash up as he explored the small kitchen. He felt secure in the safe house, at least as much as he could until this threat was gone, and it had him relaxing for the first time since he’d learned that a Guide was missing.

By the time the shower turned off, John had a bowl of pasta ready for Matt to eat. He’d already consumed a good portion himself and they traded places with only a nod and a soft touch from Matt on John’s arm.

John let the shower pelt down on him contently, the warm water washing away the grime on his body. He took less than half the time Matt did, but considering he’d been on the move a fraction of the time he figured that was fair.

Slipping into a pair of sweatpants and the grey shirt Matt had found, John left the bathroom and went back into the living room, finding Matt on the couch, half asleep. 

John cleared his throat and Matt blinked, looking up at him before jolting fully awake. “Hey.”

“Hey,” John replied, sitting down next to Matt. 

Matt’s scent changed, but John found it difficult to naviagate the mess of his scent pile enough to discern what was different. There was definitely weariness there, some embarrassment too and grief. Guilt, maybe. Matt shyly touched John’s arm. John took a chance and pulled his Guide in his lap. Matt went, clinging to John’s chest.

“What’s wrong?” John asked. 

“I just… I don’t know why you’d want to keep me,” Matt admitted with such a heart-wrenching tone that John’s hands on Matt’s back clenched.

“Matt, before I met you I was nearly done, with all of it,” John took a deep breath. “I’ve lived fifty years without a permanent Guide, without a bond as solid as the one we have at _stage one_.” 

Matt looked, and smelled, shocked. “You… but I thought-”

“I’ve been bonded,” John said. “To my ex-wife, Holly, but our bond was frail, and it burned out within the first year.”

He didn’t mention the other stresses, the arguments and the months of trying for a child that would never come and the disastrous attack by Hans Gruber and all that followed. He figured Matt didn’t need to know all that, not yet, not if he didn’t already.

“You feel…” Matt shook his head. “It doesn’t matter anyway, John. The feds are going to arrest me the minute we get to D.C.”

“They damn well better not,” John growled. “The Guide of an Alpha Sentinel is not _arrested_ just because he was tricked into making a mistake.”

“Alpha?” Matt blinked. “I mean, I should have guessed, but…”

“Yeah,” John felt himself flush, because that was a piece of information for Matt to know, if his Guide was going to stay like John hoped. “I have a pride.” 

Matt’s tension was gone suddenly. “Pride,” he murmured. “My sprit animal is an ocelot.”

“A sleek cat,” John said. He stroked a hand in Matt’s hair, liking the way the silky locks felt under his sensitive fingertips. “Like you.”

Matt’s face turned red, but his smile showed he was pleased. “You?”

“Lion,” John told him. “A Barbary lion, actually.”

“Wait, a Barbary lion?” Matt snorted. “Aren’t those extinct?”

John gave a long sigh. “Yeah.” He pulled the Guide closer, hiding his smile as Matt easily adjusted in his lap.

“One of kind, huh?” Matt murmured, chuckling into John’s neck. 

“What’s so funny?” John asked. 

“It’s just,” Matt settled more weight back so he could lean far enough away to meet John’s eyes. “Lions have all that hair-”

“Seriously, kid,” John gave Matt his hardest look, only to have it roll off his Guide like water. “You’re gonna mention the hair?”

“Or lack thereof,” Matt grinned.

“Matt…” John growled.

“Shutting up now,” Matt shook his head and tucked back in close.

John closed his eyes, letting the scent of his Guide settle his senses. It had never been like this with Holly, there had always been too much spark between them. He’d thought he’d liked that, the passion he’d had for her had been exciting.

But he was old now, probably too old for the young man in his arms, and yet, the peace Matt gave him was something he didn’t think he’d be able to give up. 

“I’m fucking selfish for wanting to keep you,” John admitted softly. “But I’m not sure I can really bring myself to care.” 

“John,” Matt said, his tone relieved and happy all at once. “Shut up.”

John smirked and kissed his Guide’s dark hair. “Sure Mattie, whatever you say.”

“Like I believe that,” Matt snorted.

“Believe what you want,” John said. He leaned down and nipped at the Guide’s throat, reveling at how Matt arched his head back immediately to give him better access. 

John bit down harder and then released the skin to lick at the teeth imprint. He felt Matt shiver, moving against him like he had nothing else to hold onto. John frowned a bit and pulled back, suddenly unsure if they should do this tonight.

After all, not only were they both pretty emotionally compromised and exhausted, but there was also this fucking Fire Sale to figure out. John still had no idea how much of a rush they were in, how much the feds needed their help, or at least Matt’s help. Hell, he was more ignorant than his twenty-something years younger Guide and that didn’t sit well with him.

But still… if this was all going to go to hell then he wanted this one moment, at least, with his new bonded.

“John,” Matt muttered. “ _Please_.”

John’s breath caught at that voice and he nodded before he could think better of it. “Yeah.”

Matt slithered off his lap, graceless, but sexy all the same. John followed him into the back bedroom, smiling as Matt tugged at his clean clothes. “We should have just never gotten dressed,” the Guide muttered.

John laughed and pulled off Matt’s shirt. The room was comfortably warm, getting even warmer as their bodies pressed together. John wrapped his arms around Matt’s waist and pulled him to the bed.

Matt flopped back on the mattress, staring up at John with wide brown eyes, darkened even further with arousal, the same that spiked in John’s nose like an aphrodisiac.

“Fuck,” John’s head fell to Matt’s forehead. He felt like he shouldn’t be so attracted to someone that could very well be his child, age-wise.

But he had no children. Maybe he would have, had he and Holly been able to try a little longer, but their bond had been so strained, so weak in comparison to this steady pulse between him and Matt.

It was as though Matt was made for him, and though John knew intellectually that such a thing couldn’t be real, that he was just as compatible with other Guides out there if he could only find them… though he knew that, he still couldn’t imagine wanting anyone else other than Matt.

Matt, his Mattie. _His_. Already his own and not even fully bonded yet. Maybe not ever.

Matt shimmied out of his jeans and then reached forward to tug off John’s sweats. John let him, a smile coming over his lips. His eyes traced the soft curls that dusted Matt’s chest and then moved to Matt’s hardening cock. Thin, pale like the rest of him, and pink at the end.

John spared a moment to be glad that all Sentinels and Guides were inherently bisexual, able to bond with any gender without problem, no matter their upbringing.

John’s own cock was filling and a familiar ache was building up in his veins. A need to claim pushed from inside him. He thrust the need aside. It was still too soon for all that would bring.

Matt was his, but not totally _his_ , and there was a difference. 

“You just going to stare all day?” Matt asked, his arms stretching over his head. 

“You probably don’t like to hear this,” John said, “but you’re quite pretty.”

Instead of being offended, Matt laughed. “You should see my spirit animal.”

John tensed and then consciously relaxed. Not yet, he reminded himself. Too soon. “Maybe one day,” he murmured, swooping down for a kiss before Matt could reply. 

Matt kissed back greedily, letting John take control, but giving back with just as much passion. Their tongues warred, briefly, and then John thrust his body against Matt’s and Matt moaned into his mouth. 

John thrust again, their cocks just barely rubbing. He shifted, so that the slide of their bodies would thread their cocks together. Matt squirmed under him, trying to get more.

Never one to deny too much, John traced one hand, fingers spread, down the entire left side of Matt’s body and then, slowly, traced his cock and balls. Matt bucked up, but John’s weight was solid on top of him and he didn’t succeed much.

Matt broke their kiss so he could whine, “ _John_.” John laughed. 

“Okay, okay,” he agreed, taking Matt’s cock in a firm grip. He pumped at a slow pace, just a steady up and down.

His own cock twitched against Matt’s thigh and he pressed closer. His mouth moved from Matt’s lips to his chin, then to his neck where he sucked for a moment before tracing down towards the shoulder blade. 

Matt tried to buck again, his legs jerking. John spread his thighs, clasping their bodies together and _pulled_ at Matt’s cock. Matt cried out.

“Just like that,” John murmured. “Give it to me.”

Matt whined. His eyes were closed and John nearly growled.

“Look at me,” he demanded. “Let me see you.”

Matt huffed, breathless still, and opened his eyes to bare slits. His pupils gleamed up at John, hazed over with pleasure, and John groaned. Smiling softly, Matt took a hand off the sheets and grasped at John’s cock head, rubbing a thumb over the slit.

John’s head dropped. He bit at one of Matt’s nipples, careful not to do any real damage. Matt’s hand moved to fist John’s cock, pumping in time with the rhythm of John’s hand on his.

“Fassst-” Matt said, barely a word but John got it. 

John obliged, picking up speed and biting down just a bit harder as Matt’s hand squeezed almost to the point of too much. 

It was bliss. John shuddered, pulling back on Matt’s nipple. Matt shouted something indistinguishable and then his cock was pulsing in John’s hand, sending out warm bursts of seed onto his abdomen.

John groaned and used the hand now covered in Matt's seed to help stroke his own cock. The slippery mess soon became too much for him and then he was coming all over Matt’s thigh.

Matt’s hand shifted, rubbing up John’s side, leaving a trail of semen and goose bumps in its wake. John collapsed on the bed next to him, his left arm completely numb from the exertion of keeping himself propped above Matt.

Matt turned, pressing his whole body closer to John and John happily let him. “Guide.”

“Sentinel,” Matt said, his sleep-laden voice content. “John.”

John smiled, his inner Sentinel rumbling its approval as they slowly drifted off together into sleep.


End file.
